


The Other Side of Fear

by icandrawamoth



Series: Reincarnationverse [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-wing Series - All Media Types
Genre: Airplanes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Anxiety, Banter, Fear of Flying, Flying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I wanted the end to be a surprise but I also wanted to tag properly :/, M/M, Married Couple, Reincarnation, Reunions, Self-Indulgent, another fic that doesn't deserve the good title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Reincarnated Wedge is terrified of flying. His husband, Tycho, does his best to comfort him, but what waits at their destination makes it all worthwhile.





	The Other Side of Fear

**Author's Note:**

> A while back I read this post on Tumblr speculating how our biggest fear relates to how we died in a previous life. While that isn't directly brought up in the fic, that's part of where the idea sprang from. (TBH, the other part was me putting my own fears on my fave character.) Plus, y'know, just general reincarnation goodness. ~~Also I guess Wedge dying in flight and Iella generally not existing for him makes the original timeline also an AU, but let's not make this too complicated...~~

Wedge's eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched, back ramrod stiff against the seat as his hands grip the armrests as if they could single-handedly save him from a disaster. He can feel the vibration of the airplane's idling engines through his entire body. Or maybe it's only his own trembling.

“Wedge.”

A hand lands on his right arm, and he starts violently, eyes snapping open. He's immediately assaulted by the sights and sounds of fellow passengers boarding and arranging themselves and their baggage.

“Hey.” Next to him, Tycho leans forward to capture his attention, and Wedge tries to focus on his husband's face, the concern in his blue eyes.

“I'm all right,” Wedge manages woodenly.

Tycho frowns and twines their fingers together, squeezing gently. “You don't have to lie to me.”

Wedge sighs and looks away. “I hate this.”

Tycho rubs his hand softly. “I know.”

“Why _this_ fear?” Wedge mutters. “It's not right.”

“You can't control it,” Tycho tells him - the same thing he's told him many times. “You're not the same person you were then.”

“But I _am_ ,” Wedge insists. “And so are you, and-”

He's cut off by the voice of the pilot announcing their pullback from the gate. His face goes utterly pale, and his grip on Tycho tightens.

His husband doesn't complain. “Easy,” he murmurs.

Wedge groans and shoves his face into Tycho's shoulder, trying to concentrate on the familiar scent of the man he loves. He can feel the plane moving, carrying them all toward the terrifying endgame of being in the sky, and he wants anything but to be here. He catches a soft, distressed noise coming from his own throat and silences it, clamping his teeth together. Then the plane comes to a halt again. The end of the runway. It's nearly time.

“You should probably sit up for this,” Tycho tells him, and when Wedge merely shakes his head, he shifts, disentangling his hand from Wedge's for a brief, tetherless moment before taking it back with his other hand, his now freed arm wrapping around Wedge and holding him close.

Without warning, the plane accelerates, and Wedge's heart stampedes in his chest as the g-forces push him tight against Tycho. He tries to imagine, to remember, take-offs in his X-wing, a lifetime away, when fear of flying was the last thing on his mind, but it doesn't help. His mind still futilely screams in anxiety.

Tycho is rubbing his arm and murmuring a stream of comforting words in his ear that Wedge can't even process as he feels the wheels leave the ground, knows the world is dropping away below them, but he concentrates on his voice, the soothing, intimate cadence of it.

Long, long minutes stretch by with the plane's nose pointing up as they gain altitude, and Wedge just tries to breathe. It's going to be hours before they land again, and he can't stay like this the whole time; he knows that. He'll have a heart attack before they're halfway there.

“No, thank you,” he hears Tycho murmur after awhile, and curiosity makes him raise his head just enough to look at him.

“A stewardess asking if we need anything,” his husband explains gently. “We're reached cruising altitude. You doing all right?”

Wedge groans and lays his head on his shoulder again. His heart is still pounding too fast and too hard, and there's a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. “How long is this flight again?” he asks, hearing the whine in his own voice.

“Three hours,” Tycho answers sympathetically. He smooths Wedge's hair. “You could try to get some sleep.”

“I doubt I could sleep like this,” Wedge says with a weak sound that was supposed to be a laugh. “I feel like I'm about to jump out of my skin.”

“Try,” Tycho encourages. He closes his own eyes and rests his head against Wedge's. “And just think: it'll all be worth it when we get where we're going.”

Wedge's heart jolts again, but this time pleasantly. Tycho is right. Wedge wouldn't be on this plane if it weren't something serious, something they both want, something they've been wanting for years...

“Rest,” Tycho says. His free hand smooths up and down Wedge's arm comfortingly, and he begins to hum.

Wedge makes himself close his eyes and listen to the song. It's soft and lilting, not one he recognizes, but it's the man he loves trying to comfort him, and it works. Despite his fear, he finds himself drifting.

He dreams. Seated at the controls of his X-wing, sky and land and sea whipping by outside, Tycho just off his port wing, a fierce grin on his face, exhilaration in his breast. Right where they were always so comfortable together, happy and in control...

A _bump_ shakes him awake and Wedge bolts upright, his true surroundings – and his anxiety – coming back at once.

“You're okay,” Tycho says, squeezing his hand, and there's the hint a laugh behind the word. “We've landed.”

Wedge sags with relief, turning to look out the window and the blessed tarmac that rolls by below as the plane taxis to the gate. “Thank the maker,” he mutters.

Tycho does chuckle this time and leans over to kiss his cheek. “I'm surprised you managed to sleep the whole time, but I'm glad. I didn't like seeing you like that.” He kisses him again. “Maybe we should have you take something to help you relax on the way home.”

“Maybe...” But Wedge is distracted now, nearly bouncing in his seat as the gate grows closer outside. “Do you think they're here?”

Tycho pulls out his phone and turns it on. His whole face lights in a beautiful grin when his notifications start rolling in. “They're waiting in the terminal.”

Wedge clutches his hand. “We're really here. This is happening.”

“It's happening,” Tycho confirms, and Wedge can feel the excited that answers his own.

It seems to take ages for the plane to unload – thought not as long as waiting anxiously for it to fill up and take off in the first place – but eventually they manage to collect their bags and make their way up the jet bridge. As soon as it opens up into the waiting area, Wedge's eyes are darting everywhere trying to spot the reason for the trip, and then Tycho is tugging his hand and murmuring, “ _There!_ ” with a jerk of head, and then Wedge sees them too, and the two of them are running, the three men they've spotting rushing to meet them-

One with shaggy blonde hair and bright blue eyes.

One dark-haired, round-faced, and grinning widely.

Another blonde, hanging slightly behind the others, eyes widening with recognition when he sees them.

The five of them collide in a tangle of bodies, Wedge and Tycho's bags abandoned as too many people try to hug each other all at once. Someone is crying – probably more than one – and everyone is talking at once, excited chatter filling the room and drawing curious looks that all of them ignore.

“It's really you!”

“You're finally here!”

“I thought we'd never find you!”

“I told you we would!”

“It's been so long...”

Finally they manage to pull apart, then they're standing in a circle, arms a linked together, one unit like the old times, grinning like mad, and it feels _so right_. Wedge just looks at them for a long time, drinking them in. Luke. Wes. Hobbie. His friends and squadronmates, the men he was closer to than any in the world – _any_ world. He'd trust any of them with his life, even though he's just met them again. They're the same; he knows it.

“Don't be such a sap, Wedge,” Luke says with a shaky smile of his own, and Wedge smiles back, dashing away tears as Tycho puts an arm around his waist.

Wes's eyes track the movement, and he laughs. “I've been in your presence for all of two seconds, and I'm ready to throw up already,” he quips.

“At least they actually got their act together much faster this time around,” Hobbie puts in. “Let's see the rings.”

Wedge and Tycho hold out their hands, the plain golden rings catching the light. Inside, they're both engraved with the Alliance Starbird – something they hadn't bothered explaining to the designer but which holds obvious meaning for them.

“I'm so bummed we missed your wedding,” Luke says genuinely. “At least we'll all be together for the next one.”

“Surely you're not all still single?” Tycho asks.

Luke goes red as the other two roll their eyes. Delighted and ravenously curious, Wedge is about to press when Hobbie marches forward and grabs their bags. “Dinner first, then more interrogation,” he announces, rolling toward the exit. “Wes is cooking.”

“I promised no such thing!” Wes complains as the group follows.

Wedge beams as they descend into bickering. With Tycho's hand in his, surrounded by old friends together again, he can't imagine ever being happier.


End file.
